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 To work with wood, that thou thyself may'st be Like him, a craftsman skilled in his own trade." 'A prophet Thou!" the lad in wonder cried. 'Come with me," made He answer. "I am known As Joseph's Son; so I will speak for thee."

As evening fell on Nazareth's burning street Each day these two would wander out alone; And by the well, or in a quiet glade Seated, would hold their talk, with none to hear. Yet converse scarce it was; with ears intent, Fidus did always listen, while the Boy Poured out a tale of Kings and Prophets old; Of marvels that they worked to testify Unto a King whom yet the earth would see, A King of all Judea and the world; Whose glory, mounting even to the stars Would dim with rich effulgence, their great light. The Sun of Justice He, the Moon of night That had for ages settled o'er the earth. He told of wonders that the King would do Before He mounted to His mighty throne. He told of love surpassing every love That earth had seen, and of His Kingdom wide; Till all on fire Fidus hung'red to see The King Himself, and worship at His throne. "A Roman though I am," he oft would cry, "Thy King I'd welcome and for Him I'd serve." 'Yet thou art craftsman and no soldier thou." "A craftsman too can serve his loyal due." 'How wouldst thou serve?" the Boy inquiring spoke. "When Joseph bids me go, that I can learn no more, This I can do—to build for Him His throne."